Stone In Love
by Frensayce
Summary: Santana's angry. Brittany makes it better. One-shot


**Title: **Stone In Love  
**Author: **Frensayce  
**Rating: **R/NC-17  
**Word Count: **3,380  
**Pairing: **Brittany/Santana  
**Spoilers:** Through Season Two  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Glee. Woe is me.  
**Summary: **Santana's angry. Brittany makes it better.  
**A/N:**Unbeta'd

* * *

Santana stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. She ignored the angry roar of her father's voice and her mother's pleas to come back inside as she stomped to her car, and reached for the door. Of fucking course it was locked. She groaned and searched her pockets. Perfect. She'd left her keys inside and there was no chance in hell she was going back in there for anything. Tómas, with those big, annoying puppy dog eyes he'd perfected at the age of four, stared at her through the living room window as their parents' shouting bled through the walls of the house. Screw it. He was a big boy now; he'd be fine. They were fighting about her, anyway, so he didn't have a damn thing to worry about. Kicking her car tire, she shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and started walking.

She contemplated calling for a ride, but it was late and she didn't want to bother anyone. Actually, she didn't feel like sharing her business and exactly why she was walking the back streets of Lima at eleven o'clock on a Thursday night. Her feet ambled down familiar streets and she soon found herself down wandering along the old railroad track a mile from her parents' house. Well, the house they'd lived in before her father opened his own practice. She wasn't even sure how she made it this far into the old ramshackle neighborhood by the Sixth Street railroad crossing. The old rusty tracks were a fading reminder of the prosperous town that Lima, Ohio once was. But that was decades ago.

She and her father used lay pennies on these rails. He'd tell her stories about her _abuelito_ working for the locomotive company, how he came all the way from Bolivia and was one of the few immigrants to find good work at the time, building trains to take passengers all over the country to reach their dreams, or some poetic shit like that. All she knew now was that freighters were the only trains that ran these tracks, just passing through because there wasn't a damn thing in Lima worth staying for, life was just shitty here.

Santana sighed and ran her hand through her long black hair. Unused to walking the tracks alone, she began humming, needing to hear something more than just her own breathing. She held her arms out and walked along the steel rails like a balance beam, one foot in front of the other, imagining holding her _Papi's_ hand for help and guidance like she used to. She wanted to feel what it was like to be five again and trust that her giant of a father — who turned out to be not so very tall as she grew — would catch her if she fell. She hated that now when she needed his support the most, he wasn't there.

"What are you doing?"

A clear voice startled her, and she stumbled and landed on her ass. Well fuckin' spectacular. A tall blonde with the body of a dancer stood about five feet from her. She wore a green top with a black jacket that was unnecessary in the summer heat, and tight blue jeans that covered long, elegant legs. She looked good. Damn good. Santana licked her lips and stared up into clear blue eyes as she answered with a sarcastic mutter, "Jumping jacks."

The young woman titled her head to the side, and her long hair followed the motion. She really was stunning, even with the puzzled look on her face. "I never learned those kinds of jumping jacks." She shrugged and looked up at the clear night sky as if contemplating the ineffable mysteries of the cosmos. Then again, for all Santana knew she could be debating what was better, Coke or Pepsi, and Coke better be the winner of that debate, in her not at all humble opinion. A fair skinned hand reached down to her. "I'm Brittany."

Still on her back, Santana stared at the hand as if it were bait for some kind of insidious trap or sick joke. She never did have the best luck in situations like these. Not that she'd really been in a situation like this before. Her eyebrow crept up to her hairline and she leveled the blonde with a questioning stare, looking for the cheeky trick she was sure was there. Instead she saw only innocence and kindness in those big baby blues. Propping up on one elbow, she took the hand and was hoisted to her feet more quickly than expected. Brittany was strong.

"Do you have a name? Or do I get to pick one for you?" The voice was teasing, like she knew something the brunette didn't.

She stared at Brittany curiously…warily. "Santana," she said, shaking the warm hand still in her grip. It was soft with long, tapered fingers, and fit so well with hers. "My name's Santana." There. Straight forward. No games. She was who she was.

"Nice to meet you." A wide, playful grin that she couldn't help but return crossed the blonde's face. "Bad night?"

She shrugged, not wanting to talk about it.

Brittany took the hint. A comfortable silence fell over them for a few moments until the taller girl turned to her abruptly. "I think you should go home with me now."

Santana laughed and eyed her a little suspiciously at the bold request and sparkling gaze. "Are you trying to pick me up?" she flirted, shaking her head at the weird turn her night had taken.

"Well, yeah."

That had to be the strangest, most forward come on she ever heard, and she'd dated that manwhore Puckerman. But those warm eyes looked at her as if she were the sexiest piece of ass alive and damn was it exciting. She paused and kicked a rock into the train rails. The empty clank reminded her of reality and why she was out here. That she'd run out of her father's house because she didn't want to live the life that he picked out for her. She decided right then that reality was too much for tonight and she wanted nothing more than to see how this scenario played out. Santana shoved her hands in her back pockets and cocked her hip, finding her inner bad ass. She could play this game, too. "It's polite to say please."

Unfazed, Brittany stepped a little bit closer, smelling like sugar cookies and sunshine. Santana took a breath, failing to ward off the shiver that raced through her when Brittany's low murmur breezed over her. "Would you please come home with me?" She bit her lip and tagged on another, more vulnerable "please" to the end of the question.

Gulping at their close proximity and how quickly her body responded to the other woman, Santana nodded. She didn't want to be here anymore. She wanted to forget the fight with her father and run away with the gorgeous blonde in front of her. Brittany leaned in and nuzzled against her cheek. She whimpered and her knees knocked together, but Brittany's arms were suddenly around her waist, holding her tight. Clutching the lapels of the superfluous jacket, she held on tightly and buried her face in the blonde's neck. It was a weak move, and she hated feeling vulnerable or out of control in front of anyone, but right now… right now it was okay because she felt safe; Brittany was safe. Her heart thudded in her chest as the truth of that statement cut through tonight's fears and sank into her bones. It didn't matter what happened in the future because this golden goddess of a girl was meant to be with her.

Pulling back, Santana stared into the kindest eyes that ever existed and traced her finger over pink lips. They quirked just a little and everything in her cried out to kiss them. She leaned up to tentatively press her mouth to Brittany's, and those full lips smiled against hers, parting just a little, as the blonde's fingers traced along the bare patch of skin where her shirt didn't meet her jeans. She sighed and secured her arms around the tall woman's neck.

Too soon, Brittany broke their relatively chaste kiss and, without a word, took Santana's hand and walked to her car, a slightly goofy smile gracing her features. Her neck was long, slender, and absolutely begged for love-bites and kisses. Dark eyes openly stared at Brittany's long eyelashes and high cheekbones, and adored the way that childlike smile crinkled the corners of her eyes.

The drive was silent except for the faint sound of a classic rock station Santana picked. This was obviously not the woman's style, but Brittany didn't change it. Instead, that dazzling smile softened a bit and she reached over to hold Santana's hand. It was gentle and comforting until manicured nails began teasing the undersides of her fingers and drawing circles over her palm. The brunette's breathing increased as an unexpected bolt of arousal shot through her. It was like, hand sex or something, and revved her up quicker than anyone else ever had. Jesus, she wanted this woman. She toyed with Brittany's fingers, proud of herself when she heard the blue eyed beauty whimper, and the atmosphere around them changed completely.

Their heavy breaths were like rolls of thunder in the nearly silent car. Santana's nipples tightened and pushed against her bra; she felt the moisture gather between her legs. There was no good reason in the world for her to be so turned on by such little touches. Except for that fact that it was Brittany. And Brittany was reason enough. They kept up the teasing, barely there contact for about ten minutes before the desire became too much to bear. She needed some kind of control in this little game of theirs. Her fingertips dragged over Brittany's thigh and swirled over the tight denim of those dark Levi's. She leaned over and kissed the tender skin behind the blonde's ear then whispered, "Pull over."

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Brittany pulled off the main street and onto some dusty old road that led to the park by the river side. Santana grinned and continued placing tiny kisses up and down Brittany's neck, loving how she sighed and arched back, giving her more space.

Suddenly the car stopped. Brittany threw the gear shift into park and killed the engine in a rush. She nearly broke the seatbelt in her hurry to follow Santana into the back seat and summer sky eyes darkened to rival the dark night around them. Heaven above, she looked downright predatory. She licked her lips and crawled over the supine girl. Santana pulled Brittany down on top of her.

"Ouch! Damn it."

Santana chuckled as the sweet mouth above hers cursed.

"I'm too tall for this," Brittany whispered in apology.

Gone was the savage beauty from seconds ago, and in her place was a docile woman wearing an expression that could only be called sheepish.

Santana scoffed exaggeratedly, relieving the tension and uncertainty of the whole night and kissed Brittany's cheek. "Who says we have to stay in the car?"

The door behind her head popped open and she fell back with a squeal as Brittany used those wonderfully long legs to climb over her and scamper out of the vehicle. Her long black hair hung down to the ground as she hung off the seat, giggling — actually giggling — as strong arms hooked under hers and pulled her from the car. Falling back with a silly and dramatic huff, Santana landed on Brittany's softly toned body. Still laughing, she rolled over so they were face to face and brushed blonde bangs out of the way. She wanted, needed, to see those gorgeous eyes again. The laughter dwindled, and the sound of the river's current mingled with their heavy breathing. There was something so perfect about this: lying on top of Brittany and nestled between her mile-long legs was easily the best thing she ever felt. She pushed up on her forearms, taking in the beauty below her. "You're amazing," she whispered.

"I know." Brittany shrugged, as if it was a truth as universal as the sunrise or the holy, unbreakable marriage of peanut butter and jelly.

Santana's musings were short lived because a sweet, pink mouth found hers and halted all thought. The slow, calm pace belied the passion between them, but that quickly changed as her tongue slipped inside Brittany's mouth without warning and her hand flew under her shirt. The blonde gasped when Santana raked her fingernails over skin that shimmered in the moonlight like pale gold. Her hand traveled up to cup a bra clad breast, and she kissed her way down Brittany's neck, flicking her tongue at the hollow of her throat before moving back up and catching and ear lobe between her teeth.

Brittany's hips jerked up. "San…"

She smiled at the nickname and kissed her again. Brittany gripped the brown skinned girl by the back of the neck then slithered her hand down Santana's body and cupped between her legs. The brunette's moan echoed across the river.

Faster than she could think, Santana was flat on her back and Brittany had pushed her shirt up and popped the button on her faded jeans, quickly wiggling them down smooth, slender legs. The cool grass beneath her contrasted with the heat of her skin and she hissed, but Brittany was right there, distracting her with deep kisses and fingertips that skimmed up and down, teasing her through her wet panties.

"You okay?"

Santana pumped her hips in answer as she reached for Brittany. She worked to get rid of that damn jacket, and Brittany pulled free to pillow it behind her head. It was a sweet gesture, but Santana didn't want sweet right now. She needed something rough, raw, and downright unbearable. She needed something to make her forget how scared she was about the future and how terrified she was of disappointing her father. When they kissed again, Santana bit down hard, loving the vigor it stirred in the taller woman. "Don't be gentle."

Brittany growled low in her throat and attacked every inch of skin she encountered with teeth and crushing lips as she pushed Santana's underwear aside and thrust three fingers into her.

"_¡Dios mío!"_

She squirmed and tried to adjust to the invasion and the slight sting. She was inordinately wet, but an ambush of three fingers would hurt anyone at first. Brittany felt it and stilled. Santana shook her head, whimpering — begging her to continue. The thrusts were hard and deep, and she relished the slow burn smoldering in her belly as her nails dug into muscled biceps that flexed with each slam of those wonderful fingers. She cried out before nearly biting through her own lip in a belated effort to stay quiet.

She felt Brittany's mouth traveling down her already shaking body. The fire inside her flared and she fisted long golden hair, pulling the woman closer. There was no exploration, or any hesitant licks, there was just an air tight seal around her clit and three long fingers curling and uncurling, coaxing forth the climax building inside her. It was heavy-going, but Brittany never quit, she even sped up, only pulling her mouth away once. "C'mon, Santana. Come for me."

The strength of those fingers pounding inside of her turned brutal and forced tears to leak from the corners of her eyes as she drowned in the aching thrills flowing through her body. It hurt so beautifully, and Santana forgot everything in the world — everything about her past or her plans for the future — because the only thing that mattered was right now, the single moment of her body seizing and clenching Brittany's fingers so tightly she swore she felt the blonde's heartbeat pulsing with hers as she came, screaming.

"Brittany!"

The river carried her cries to the next town over and she gushed over the blonde's fingers. Her hips rolled and her body quaked as Brittany drew out her orgasm until Santana collapsed, exhausted and twitching.

Dazed, she groaned and barely noticed Brittany righting her clothes for her, then wiping away her tears. They didn't speak. Brittany just held her and let her cry, whispering nonsensical things and occasionally brushing her cheeks dry. Santana couldn't be sure how long they stayed like that, under the moon with the rush of the river only yards from them. Her cries became hiccups as she calmed and tucked further in to the warm body next to her.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded.

"Do you want to talk about the fight with your dad?"

"How did you know about that?" she asked, pulling away and leveling the blonde with a hard stare.

Brittany rolled her eyes. "Your mom called. Said you left your keys in the kitchen, and that I'd better come get you because you're just as pig-headed as your father and won't go back for them." She paused and kissed Santana's cheek. "I think your head's super cute, though."

"I am _not_ pig-headed," she snorted.

"Don't tell lies."

Santana sat up, sighing as she was wrapped up in the strong arms she loved so much. "It's like he doesn't want me to have a life of my own."

"Or he's just scared, and worried about his only daughter moving across the country for a job," Brittany countered.

"I don't need him to worry; I need him to finally see me as an adult. I'm twenty-six for fuck's sake," she muttered, pouting much like the child she didn't want to be treated as.

"He does, Sanny, but no matter how old you get, you're always going to be his little girl."

She paused and swallowed back the lump in her throat at the sudden memory of a tiny version of herself towering over the neighbors during a Fourth of July party, trying to touch the fireworks exploding above them — absolutely towering and convinced she could reach beyond the stars — all because her _Papi_ was holding her up on his broad, strong shoulders. But she was too big for that now; she'd grown up and he couldn't carry her anymore. She was suddenly less sure of herself.

Brown eyes traced over the serene woman next to her and a tidal wave of confidence rolled over her at the look of faith and trust she found. Knowing she had the support, validation and approval of the only person that mattered, Santana kissed the blonde's cheek. "I hate it when you're right."

"That's why you're angry all the time."

The brunette rolled her eyes with a smile and nuzzled back into her wife. "So how'd you find me?"

"S, that's dumb. We've been together for, like, ten years. I totally have San-dar." She hugged Santana tight before standing up and holding out her hand. "Can we go home now? I made cookies today so you can't be sad anymore."

Looking up, Santana realized how perfect her wife was. Brittany was undoubtedly the greatest person she'd ever met. She'd put up with all of Santana's bullshit in high school, weathered the storm of maintaining a long-distance relationship during college, and even married her after all the hell and hurt she'd caused and loved her anyway. Santana couldn't imagine her life without this woman to share it. She blinked away gathering tears and took the offered hand, loving how it fit so well with hers, and leaned up for another kiss. "Thank you, B. For everything."

Brittany gave her a dazzling smile. "You're just lucky I love you. Like, the luckiest ever. Oh! You should buy a lotto ticket!"

"Sure thing, B." She brought their joined hands to her mouth for a quick peck.

They pulled off the dirt road and back onto the main stretch. Britt left the classic rock station on, even when some obscure old Journey song blared to life. Santana closed her eyes with a smile, knowing everything was going to be okay.


End file.
